Those Nights
by Pensulliwen
Summary: There are nights that Allen sleeps soundly, snoring slightly as the phantom within him slumbers. Then there are nights when he awakens screaming. There are nights when he longs for comfort, and there are nights when he unconsciously seeks it.
1. Midnight Venture

**Those Nights**

**By Allegra**

Night always found him.

In the light of day he could go on as if nothing was wrong; he chatted with friends over lunch, he fought alongside his comrades, he was one of them. Even Inspector Link's hovering had become part of the normalcy, another aspect of everyday life— like the hovering phantom, a small reminder that soon things would break. But not today. Not in the light.

But night always found him. And with it came the loneliness and fear of never truly being alone.

Dreams always found him.

He came to hate his dreams. They were there, floating just out of his reach, flitting about the edge of his mind. He sensed that they were important, that he would be punished for missing them, but once he woke up he could never remember them with any form of clarity. Link occasionally reported that he had woken up screaming in the middle of the night, or sat up, looking out the window, only to lie back down and continue sleeping. Allen did not remember. He never remembered. And he wondered if it happened every night, between all the things that Link didn't notice, and all the things that he didn't tell him. More than anything he wished that he could just remember these infuriating dreams— and when he could not, he wished that they would cease to exist.

But dreams always found him. There were nightmares, too. Soon they were all nightmares.

And Allen woke up crying, without ever knowing why, yet always knowing; the walls pressed against him, pinning him to the bed as they came closer, closer until he feared he would cease to exist. They would smother him. They would destroy him.

Link breathed quietly in the bed next to his, and Allen rose shakily, cold and sweaty. He shivered, pushing the suffocating comforter as far away from him as he could before swinging his legs off of the bed. He hissed as bare feet met cold stone, but did not recoil. He bent over, resting his head in his hands, and reveled in the unpleasant sensation.

He had to go.

Abruptly, Allen stood, taking a few jerky steps before stopping before his window and resting his hand on the comforting wooden sphere of his bedpost. It would not harm him. But the window— the glass was treacherous. Allen lifted a shaking hand, hesitantly touching the rich fabric of the curtains. They would protect him— but they were _smothering_. He ripped them aside, and silently stared at his own translucent reflection. He was fading. The scar on his cursed eye was different, twisting and shifting in ways that made him feel nauseous. Allen glanced down, suddenly feeling very cold and not enjoying the sensation. His bare torso was covered by a sheen of sweat and the frigid air seemed to cut right through the thin cotton of his pants.

He had to go.

Confusion mixed with a sense of urgency and desperation as his legs walked, and his feet stepped, and his hand grabbed and turned as him arm pulled, and he was gone.

All of the hallways looked the same at night. Endless tunnels of pitch black— doubtlessly there were still people awake and working in the science department, but here the warriors slept, rejuvenating and facing their own nightmares. It didn't matter; he was not walking with his eyes. His hand drifted across an endless expanse of stone, punctuated by the occasional bump of a wooden doorframe. At last his feet stopped.

Soft light filtered out across the floor from the crack underneath a door— whose, Allen did not know. He couldn't hear anything inside, so he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very lost and alone, and very much wanting that light. He raised a red hand, gray in the darkness, and knocked.

Now there were footsteps, a familiar pitter-patter of bare feet. The door cracked open, shedding a sliver of light across his eye that was painful, and Allen was surprised by how much he wanted it. The door opened an inch further, revealing a curious eye and shock of black bangs. He watched as soft lips formed his name, barely hearing it. The door swung open further.

"Allen?" Lenalee repeated, opening the door wide enough so that she could see him fully while hiding behind it, exposing only her head. He glanced up at her, eyes slightly glazed over; he looked disoriented. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper. Allen continued to look at her, not seeming to know. With his dazed expression she thought that he resembled something between a coma patient and a lost puppy. Something inside her tightened and her mouth moved before her mind had entirely decided—

"Come in."

* * *

_AN: Expect three short chapters out of this baby. For anyone waiting on _Breaking Point_, the next chapter is coming soon, I promise. Just waiting for my beta to get back to me, as I had the good sense to send the chapter over a few days before Christmas, and actually expected others to have as little of a life as I do._


	2. Seeking Salvation

**Those Nights**

**Chapter Two— Seeking Salvation**

"_Come in."_

Allen obeyed with only the slightest pause of hesitation, apparently not completely grasping the fact that he had just snuck out of his room to visit Lenalee Lee in the dead of night. He looked at her as she closed the door behind him and realized why she'd been hiding; she was wearing a large black shirt, and nothing else but a pair of black underwear that were just barely visible beneath the hem. Understandable, she had probably been climbing into bed when he knocked; it was very late. He wondered vaguely why she was awake at all. Lenalee glanced at him nervously, a faint blush coloring her neck and cheeks as she tugged at the bottom of her shirt. Allen was hardly in the mood or state of mind to feel aroused, but he certainly felt… something, which was a change in itself. A layer of the veil engulfing his mind seemed to lift, leaving him with enough clarity to glance around the room; Lenalee seemed slightly less flustered now that he'd stopped staring.

"Um, so why did you… is something wrong?" she asked. Allen looked at her again, gaze still glassy enough to worry her.

"I don't know," he stated, eyes leaving her to travel across the room; it was similar to his in design, with one bed instead of two and a double-door closet no doubt stuffed with expensive, lacy garments she never actually wore, courtesy of Komui. "Maybe," he trailed off, eyes continuing to rove the room before settling back on Lenalee; her expression confused him. Worried, certainly, perhaps a little frightened. "Yes, I think that… something's wrong."

"What is it?" she asked, stepping closer as the words settled over Allen, trapping him. Yes, something was wrong. Something was very wrong. "Allen?" He flinched as Lenalee's hand settled on his shoulder, and she immediately withdrew it. Allen wished that he had missed the flash of hurt that crossed her expression, but it was soon replaced by concern as she returned to worrying the hem of her shirt.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly. The proper answer was clear; yes, I'm alright. It was the common answer every man and woman replied with when facing such a daunting question.

"No," he answered, clearing his throat when his voice came out shaky and thin. "I don't think that I am." Lenalee stared at him with an intensity that made Allen glance aside, unable to meet her eyes and speak all at once. She waited impatiently for him to continue, hand continuing to pull at the fabric of her shirt as if to restrain herself from touching him. He was grateful for it, but the lack of contact was lonely.

"I'm… fading," he said, clearly unhappy with the word choice but unable to offer anything of greater merit. Lenalee waited a moment for him to clarify this enigmatic statement.

"How so?" she finally prompted. She glanced down at his right hand, and Allen noticed in the same moment that she did that he was shaking. Slowly, cautiously, Lenalee took his quivering hand in hers, fingertips just barely ghosting across the back of his hand as she sat down on the bed, beckoning him to follow suit. Allen did so without deliberation. His complete compliance worried her; they held hands often, without seeming to notice it many times, but he was normally awkward and hesitant when it came to more bodily contact or intimate situations. He looked at their hands, resting atop one another on the black satin of her comforter, and ran his free hand across the silky surface, engrossed in the sensation. Lenalee prayed for patience.

"Allen," she gently rested a pale hand on his rough, red one. "What makes you think that you're fading?"

Allen looked at her, sparing their hands one last glance before facing her completely. "He's taking over," Allen struggled to explain. "My mind is going, he… chipping away, piece by piece, making room… there's so much I don't remember. I don't know what's happening to me." A trace of helplessness colored his voice.

But he did, he did; sometimes. When he was lucid and sharp and he stared into the mirror, eyes spilling over with nothing but raw determination. When he gestured to himself and challenged the Noah in a fierce whisper, _you can't have this_. When the chuckle he received in return did not faze him, because he was going to _win_. When he believed in that absolute truth above everything else. When he trusted in Mana and loved him, and trusted in their promise, the pact that he made with his Innocence. _He can't have this._

But it was dark, and people slept, and it felt like his mind was filled with cotton. He was slow, and then he was sharp, and then slow again, but perhaps his mind was always a lethargic thing and there were only bursts where he noticed it. He noticed it now, clinging to Lenalee's hand as if it could anchor his mind to his body. The shaking had returned.

"I don't think that I'm going to win."

The words were painful, chain lengths dipped in acid that sizzled as they wound around him, overwhelming him. They were at once a relief and more horrible than before once spoken aloud. They too would consume him. He would fade into nothing.

"I don't think that I'm going to win."

"Oh, Allen." Arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He turned into in, lifting one leg onto the bed to stabilize himself as Lenalee squeezed him as close to her body as space would allow, having already drawn both legs under herself to perch precariously on her knees. She burrowed her face in the hollow of his neck, stroking his hair.

"You will."

The words were spoken with such certainty that Allen accepted them as fact before their meaning had even begun to sink in.

"You will win, Allen. You always do. You can make it through this, I believe in you." She never once stopped running her fingers through his hair, scraping gently from his scalp to the nape of his neck. She drew back now to stare into his eyes as she spoke, face a mask of determination that she was resolved to impart to him. He retuned her gaze with an open-mouthed gape and rapt attention. "You can beat him, I know you can. You'll always be Allen."

With that, he broke.

Allen leaned his head against Lenalee's chest, looping his arms around the low of her waist and clinging to her fiercely, as if seeking her salvation. She gladly gave it, resuming her previous ministrations as sobs racked his body.

"You're going to be okay, Allen." Was that really all it took? No, it was temporary relief backed by nothing— but it sounded like deliverance.

"It's going to be okay." He wanted so much to believe it.

"I'll always be here with you." That seemed impossible, but with her slender body crushed against his in an embrace that was both painful and comforting, it seemed like the only thing left to believe in. He clung to her like a lifeboat, anchoring him in reality; like she was the only thing left worth clinging to. For tonight, it was enough.

"Yes," he muttered tiredly.

It was enough.


	3. Break of Dawn

**Those Nights**

**Chapter Three— Break of Dawn**

Howard Link made his way down one of the many spiraling hallways of Black Order HQ at a brisk pace— not running, but moving with a sense of urgency that was not usually present in his sedate gait. Allen Walker was not in his bed. That could mean a thousand different things; Link's mind raced with all the possibilities. The only thing that was certain was that he has left sometime after midnight, as Link had learned from Timcampy (after spending a considerable amount of time trying to coax the golem down from the ceiling). According to Timcampy's projection, Walker had been sleeping fitfully until the golem grew bored watching his master sleep and left to chase a grasshopper. Walker was not in his bed when Timcampy returned.

With the Ark at his disposal, he could quite literally be anywhere by now. Some choice words flew through Link's mind, though he voiced none of these concerns aloud; business was going on as usual in Headquarters. If the 14th had truly escaped, then no one had noticed yet. That at least most likely ruled out the possibility that he had already made his kill. It was a small comfort— Allen Walker was many things, but openly disobedient was not one of them. He would not have simply left on his own.

Link halted, moving to the side of the hallway uncertainly. What course of action to take? Leverrier must know about the situation first, but as soon as the news spread there would be panic. If Walker was by some miracle still in the building, he might escape in the commotion. Weighing his options, Link resumed his pace, heading back towards the Exorcist's sleeping quarters. Locating Walker was top priority. Finding out if he was still in the Order could take hours in the vast expanse of twisting corridors and secret rooms that made up headquarters. Lenalee Lee, however, could cover the grounds in minutes, and most likely knew her way around fairly well. She would want to find Walker without Leverrier knowing he was gone, so her discretion should not be an issue.

"Miss Lenalee," Link called, rapping his knuckles again her door. Silence followed. Link counted to ten before knocking again. "Lenalee Lee." Again, he received no response. Link let out a small sigh. She was probably still asleep; it was rather early. His hand traveled to the door knob instinctively, and Link was surprised to find that her door was open. Surely Komui would have advised her again sleeping behind an unlocked door. Taking surreptitious glances to his right and left, Link pulled the door open. His gaze immediately settled on the bed at the far end of the room.

His charge lay in a heap of tangled sheets and limbs.

Taking a cautious step in, Link sidestepped a dresser and came to stand next to the bed. Both occupants were still wholly alive and breathing quietly. Link twitched. He entertained the idea of wrenching Allen off the bed and dragging him back to their room by his hair, but that would cause an unwanted disturbance. Circumstances being what they were, Link was quite sure that he did not want to be involved in the uproar that would ensue should Komui hear about this. There was also the fact that he couldn't tell what, if anything, Lenalee was wearing— judging by Allen's bare torso, Link was not at all certain that he wanted to risk disrupting them.

Grumbling under his breath, the inspector locked the door on his way out, settling in for yet another long wait on Lenalee Lee's account.

* * *

Allen awoke to a bright sun, already high in the sky, and a pounding head. He groaned quietly at the light, but was glad for it. Somehow every night felt like a battle now, simply waiting for the sun to come back up as pieces of him disappeared. But the sun was up now, and he was calm.

This tranquility lasted until Allen took a moment to take in his surroundings and realized that he was not in his room. He was pressed against a window that was not his, covered in sheets that were not his, with his right arm turned at a strange angle and numb beside him. As memories began to trickle back into his mind, he was afraid to know why. The sheets moved slightly as something on the bed shifted, accompanied by a small whisper of a sigh. Slowly, Allen turned his head, and found himself facing a pair of wide eyes.

Lenalee glanced away hurriedly, embarrassed at being caught staring. Allen barely noticed. He was sleeping in a bed with Lenalee Lee. With his arm caught beneath Lenalee Lee. Shirtless. He only barely recalled the events of the previous night, as if watching a golem's blurry recording rather than a clear memory, but he could picture her attire with stunning clarity.

It was a small miracle that Komui hadn't killed him in his sleep.

"Good morning," Lenalee said timidly. She grinned when Allen glanced at her again. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," Allen answered shakily, attempting to retract his arm. Lenalee raised herself up on one elbow accommodatingly, and Allen set to twiddling his fingers in an attempt to regain feeling in the appendage, as well as distract himself. The first objective at least semi-worked. The silence that fell over them was distinctly uncomfortable.

"Lenalee," Allen began when he could no longer bear the quiet.

"Yes?" she answered too quickly. Allen gulped.

"I'm really sorry, about last night. I wasn't… wasn't myself. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Lenalee cut him off. Allen eyed her uncertainly. "Really, I didn't mind."

"I wouldn't have come here," Allen insisted, "I mean, not that I didn't want to, but I wouldn't have. Not with you like that, and, you really shouldn't just let people into your bed like that,"

She cut him off again, this time with a hug. Allen tensed as her arms wound around his bare shoulders. "Allen, I'm happy that you came to me when you were feeling that way. I want to be here for you. I meant what I said last night; I'm going to be with you." Allen felt himself relaxing at the words, despite himself; all logic stated that he should be more frantic now that she was leaning on him, and while he hadn't noticed it last night he was now hyper-aware of the globes pressing against his chest—

"Thanks," he managed to say breathily, forcing the train of thought to an abrupt halt. He felt her smile press against his neck and wanted to cling to it like a prayer. Lenalee pulled back, eyes soft as they looked over him.

"You can come in here any time," she offered with a friendly peck on the cheek that reminded Allen how much he really, really needed to go.

"Ah, I don't think that's a good idea," Allen rushed with a nervous chuckle, disentangling himself from the sheets. "Link's probably…"

The reality of the situation crashed on them both at the same time.

"Link—"

"Maybe he's not up yet?"

"He wakes up at the crack of dawn," Allen lamented, casting his eyes around the room for a shirt that wasn't there. He pointedly stared at the wall when Lenalee stood up as well, digging through her closet for a skirt.

"Allen, this could be kind of serious," she said hesitantly, biting her lip. "If he's told Leverrier that you're missing—"

"It'll be fine," Allen said without a trace of conviction in his voice. A soft mewl escaped Lenalee as she frantically tugged her skirt on.

"Maybe if we go find him right now and I tell him you were here the whole time it'll be okay," she said hopefully, throwing the door open. Lenalee paused in confusion as a loud "ooph" sound came from behind the door. Curiously, she drew the door back to see Inspector Link cradling his face, a red imprint forming on his nose.

"Link!" Lenalee exclaimed in surprise as Allen came around to join her. "What were you doing outside of my door?"

Link took a moment to seethe before replying. "I would thank you to not impede my duties again, Lenalee Lee," he snapped, ignoring her question. "Or I will be forced to raise a formal complaint!"

Lenalee blinked at the familiar speech, glancing uncertainly at Allen. He seemed equally perplexed.

"The same goes for you!" Link threatened, grabbing Allen's arm and all but dragging him down the hallway. Lenalee waved belatedly as they turned a corner, before letting her hand fall back down to her side. Was that really it? She had been ready to appear before the Council…

Well, in that case, maybe they would have to do this again sometime. Lenalee smiled and, with that thought in mind, all but skipped back into her room.

_

* * *

_

AN: Apologies to anyone who had Twilight _flashbacks due to this chapter's title. I'll wait while you thousand mile stare into the distance._

_Anyway, hope you liked, this was basically born from my desire to write something quick involving a broken Allen, without actually having the heart to completely break him (this time). Lenalee to the rescue! I hope that I managed to mostly avoid a sexual healing vibe. Not that I am at all opposed to that idea (again, next time), just not quite what I was going for._

_This is the part where I grub for reviews. … :D_


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